


Justice League Uninhibited

by LawfulHungry



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Hypnotism, Impregnation, Mind Control, Public Humiliation, Public Masturbation, Public Nudity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawfulHungry/pseuds/LawfulHungry
Summary: The Justice League is excellent at handling overt threats. It’s the subtler issues that give them trouble, like an insidious little piece of jewelry that compels women to "forget" modesty entirely.Commission for Swallows999
Relationships: Justice League (DCU) & Original Character(s)
Kudos: 14





	1. Amulets of Dionysus

“So this is the big gift?” Rebecca bent over the table, eying the cart as a guard wheeled it into the preservation room. “I was hoping it was something bigger.”

“Historical impact isn’t always determined by size.” Angela directed the cart toward the table. “Not every critical anthropological discovery is a sarcophagus or statue.”

Michelle sighed. “Just as well. We don’t need some dead Pharaoh or angry golem running around campus.”

“A…what?”

Michelle gave her a smirk, but a wry one, without malice. “Right, you’re still new in town. Let’s just say you get used to a little weirdness around Gotham.”

“Thanks, Carl,” Rebecca nodded at the guard, who left the women alone with the cart. “Still, something big really gets the donors worked up. We get a statue or a bejeweled necklace, do all the research, present it as the showpiece of an exhibit in the Gotham Museum of Antiquities, and boom! Woodside College is back on the map.”

“We are on the map, Rebecca.”

“Sure, as a footnote. Hard for any women’s college to get press in this old boys’ club of a town.”

Angela cleared her throat. “Let’s get started, shall we? Mister Luthor has generously let us borrow these from his private collection, and I’d like to at least give him a preliminary assessment by morning.”

The other women nodded, and Angela lifted her sheet with perhaps more pomp than was strictly necessary. She opened the simple wooden box and revealed two bronze amulets, each about the size of her palm. Matching bronze chains lay against the black velvet interior, and dull amber gemstones glittered in the preservation room’s fluorescent light.

“Wow, I take it back. Pawn-store jewelry is definitely worth spending a weekend at work,” Rebecca deadpanned as she draped her coat over a chair.

“Hush,” Angela spat, letting a snippet of irritation slip out. “How about a professional opinion before any unnecessary commentary?”

“Fine, fine.” She peered at the amulets, careful to keep her breath far from the delicate artifacts. “Hmm…they look Greek.”

Angela’s fingers worked their way down her shirt buttons. “That checks out. Mister Luthor said they might have once been in the private collection of Markos Stratallis.”

“I have no idea who that is.”

“I do.” Michelle’s skirt hit the floor, and she stepped away from it to approach the table. With only her bra covering her from the waist up, bending over to get a closer look made her generous cleavage even more apparent. “Greek general, post-Caesar. Wealthy. Misogynist. Usually generous with gifts to his favorite peons. Ardent believer in the mystical.”

Angela stepped back, leaving her shoes behind. “Mystical? So this might be…”

“He certainly might have thought it had a magical effect.”

Rebecca shimmied her panties down her legs, gradually leaving herself totally naked. “So what kind of magic would be on something he wanted to keep in his private collection?”

Angela’s underwear dropped as well, and she stood in the preservation room, her place of work, without a stitch of clothing, much less safety equipment. “Perhaps he thought it would give him power over women, if he was as misogynistic as you say.”

Michelle’s breasts pressed against the cold metal table as she leaned on it. Her eyes never left the amulets, not even to notice her equally-nude coworkers, both of whom were just as intent as she on the box and its contents. “I have heard some rumors of magical tools in his possession that could work their way into the minds of women. Make them do things they didn’t want to do, or things they didn’t even know about. Some insidious spells that forced them to obey all sorts of depraved commands without even letting them know they were under control.”

“Ha! Good one!” Rebecca stretched, showing off her firm, smooth body to her fellow researchers. “I think we’d know if we were being controlled. But that’s a heck of a story for the exhibit. ‘Come see the mighty accessories of mind-slaving!’ If this doesn’t get those rich old men worked up, I don’t—”

An explosion drowned out her plot, blasting through one of the walls and knocking the women to their feet. In the dust and confusion, three pairs of boots tromped toward the table. Muffled voices said something alongside the ringing in Rebecca’s ears, and through hazy eyes she saw a strange woman in a mask grabbing the box. The attackers nodded at each other, and as they made their escape, one of them shrugged off a leather jacket and left it in the doorway behind her.

Rebecca coughed and groped around until she felt a chair, using it to hoist herself up. “Everybody okay?”

“Y-yeah.” Angela peeked over the table, and Michelle’s hand popped into view to give her a thumbs-up. “But the amulets! They stole them! What do we do?”

Rebecca sat in the chair and leaned back, still trying to clear out the cobwebs between her ears. “What everybody does in Gotham. Call the police, then wait for Batwoman and her crew to actually solve the problem.” Something hard pushed into her back, and she turned around to look at her discarded outfit, neatly laid right where she had left it. “Hey…whose clothes are these?”

* * *

Less than an hour later, several blocks away, Rebecca was proven right: the thieves lay against each other, bound by cable, with bruises rapidly forming on their heads and legs where several well-placed Batarangs had made their impact. The Batwoman herself, all cowl and gloom, towered over them with her trademark mildly-irritated glare, while the much livelier Batgirl crouched a few yards away. “Catwoman they ain’t.”

“Mm,” Batwoman replied, skulking over to the wooden box tossed carelessly on a chair. “It does seem like a amateur operation. And yet they knew exactly where the amulets would be, and they attacked right as they were delivered. Strange.”

“Know what else is strange? I mean, I know you’re the master detective and all, so I imagine you’ve noticed our criminals are buck-ass naked?”

“It had occurred to me. Not least because we could follow the trail of clothing right to this warehouse.” Batwoman picked up the box and carried it over to the bound trio. “Care to talk?”

The women remained silent. Batgirl rubbed her chin. “Hmm. They must be masters at resisting interrogation. Or they’re concussed.”

Batwoman opened the box, looking the amulets over. “They’re still here, which means…” She trailed off as something attacked her thoughts, a subtle sensation, undetectable to anybody who hadn’t spent decades hardening her mind. She clutched her head and the box clattered to the ground, sending one amulet skidding over to Batgirl’s knees. “Batgirl, wait—!”

Batgirl stopped, but her eyes didn’t, and they rested on the amulet for a long minute. Instead of reaching for the artifact, she reached for her cape, dropping it behind her. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s…I don’t know. Some sort of magic.” Batwoman reached for one of her gloves and pulled it halfway off before she realized what she was doing. Her fingers tightened around it and her arm strained, but she couldn’t stop herself, and the weighted glove thudded on the warehouse floor. She looked down to Batgirl, who already had her gloves off and the zipper of her bodysuit halfway down her back. Something about it seemed…wrong…but what? “We don’t know what we’re facing yet. Get one of these amulets to the Watchtower. If it’s dangerous, it will be safer in the vault than in the Batcave or back at the museum. I’ll see what I can dig up with the other one.”

“You got it, Batwoman.” Batgirl picked up her amulet and clasped it around her neck, letting it rest atop her perky breasts. “It’s safest to wear it, right? No chance of it getting loose.”

“Good thinking.” Batwoman wore the other amulet. It rested over the insignia on her chest, covering it, drawing her eye…she shook her head. “And hurry. No stops. We have to learn the story behind these pieces.”

“Can do, boss!” Batgirl saluted with such force that her entire body jiggled, and she rushed out of the warehouse.

Batwoman watched her protégé go, glancing at the bouncy ass resting just below all that red hair. Her fingers rested on her thigh, then inched inward—and she pulled them away. She had to stay in control. Something was going on here, and it was up to her to figure it out.

* * *

“What an ordeal.” Angela flopped into a seat and rubbed her temples. “I think I would rather live through another explosion than deal with the police interview process afterward.”

“Tell me about it.” Michelle rested one calf on the table, propping her legs apart and rubbing her pussy in full view of her co-workers. “Whatever happened to just letting Batwoman handle it? I could swear the cops think they’re actually investigating a crime, what with how long they grilled us.”

“They are investigating a crime.” Rebecca panted quietly as her bare breasts rubbed against the cold metal table. Her toes curled and her knees trembled on her chair, the only outward signs of the orgasm her fingers were channeling through her clit. “They need all the information they can get.”

“What’s to investigate? Bad guys blow hole in wall, bad guys take valuable artifacts, bad guys show up a few hours later dangling from a streetlight or something. Maybe they have a little bat-shaped note on them. Here are your criminals. Put them in jail. Signed, the Batwoman, XOXO. Like the cops are actually going to follow evidence for a real jury trial? That’s not how Gotham works.”

Angela’s fingers had stopped circling her temples, and now they circled her nipples with equal fervor. “Normally I would support the rule of law, but something about those officers rubbed me the wrong way.”

“I know, right? Like they were undressing us with their eyes.” Michelle snuck a finger deeper and stroked her insides, releasing a long moan before she continued. “I’m sure I have a rack as great as the next collegiate researcher, but I’d appreciate it if the police, of all people, could look me in the face.”

Angela nodded and wriggled her chest. “Agreed. You’d think we were naked or—oh my God!” She curled into a ball, hiding herself behind the table from the neck down. “What did—oh my God, Michelle! Your clothes!”

“Is that it? I swear, if I had a whole conversation with Gotham’s alleged finest and I had ketchup all—shit!” She clapped her legs shut so fast she tumbled from her chair. “My clothes! Your clothes! Why are we naked?!”

“I don’t know! I don’t know! How are—there!” Angela clambered to her shirt and held it tight against her, covering about a single square foot of skin. “Did this happen in the explosion?”

“How?! What, some nude bomb tore the place apart, and we just now noticed?” Michelle skipped her panties entirely, going straight to her skirt to provide maximum modesty. “Shit, maybe it’s a hypnotist? Check your hair for the Mad Hatter’s card thingies!”

“Um…” Rebecca whimpered from under the table, where only the metal slab and her own hands protected her. “D-do you think the police saw?”

Angela looked at Michelle (with only a quick, unintentional glance below the chin) and vice versa. “Were they naked too? I didn’t even notice. The last time I remember wearing clothes is when we put on our gloves, before the amulets came in…”

“Maybe the amulets did it!” Rebecca gasped, reaching for her underwear with her toes and failing wildly. “And those amulets are out there now! What’s going to happen?”

“It’ll be fine.” Michelle stood, wearing only a disheveled skirt and blouse and still by a wide margin the least naked woman in the room. “Whatever’s happening, Gotham’s actual finest will figure it out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely,” she beamed. “Batwoman and her team wouldn’t fall for any weird magic tricks. I’ll bet you money they already have it wrapped up—and they’re fully-clothed, at that.”

* * *

On the one hand, Supergirl was proud of herself. Even with Kryptonian hearing, detecting the Batwoman was not the easiest feat. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d noticed Batwoman in a room before Batwoman wanted to make her presence known. So spotting her tonight, creeping along the rooftops of Gotham, was a point of pride for the fledgling superhero.

On the other hand, maybe it wasn’t actually Batwoman. The important parts were all there—the height, the build, the mask, the scowl, and so forth—but several less-important parts weren’t. Namely, uniform parts. A good bit of her reinforced suit was missing, and the only things she wore above the waist were her cape, her cowl, and a plain black sports bra. Even Supergirl knew how cold Gotham could get on a fall night, so watching an ordinary human woman leap around half-naked piqued her interest.

She flew down to rooftop level, noting the half-interested look Batwoman gave her well before she was in range. “Hey, hold up!” She hovered alongside, waiting for Batwoman to come to a halt in the shadow of a water tower. “What’s going on?”

“Supergirl,” Batwoman nodded. “This isn’t your usual city.”

“Sure, okay, but more importantly, why are you…” She drifted off as her eyes sank toward Batwoman’s tits, wondering what could possess a woman to strip down like that, and landed on the amulet resting alongside her cleavage. It derailed her train of thought, abolishing all questions about Batwoman’s nudity. Suddenly she didn’t notice all the bare skin, any more than she noticed the color of a person’s belt or whether a single leaf on a tree was out of place. She shook her head and set herself in order, casually unclasping her skirt and dropping it onto the random rooftop. “Why are you in such a rush?”

“Because I can’t fly at the speed of sound like some people.”

Supergirl rolled her eyes, and her shoulders, which let her cape fall off. “Haha. I mean, what’s the current crisis?”

Batwoman hesitated a moment, and Supergirl almost thought she saw Batwoman examine her legs, but the action was gone before it started. “A few no-name thugs robbed a museum tonight. Stole some artifacts they shouldn’t have even known about.” She raised an eyebrow. “Artifacts donated by Lex Luthor.”

“Ugh, I knew it. That’s why I’m here. Any time Lex catches a flight to Gotham, the big guy gets antsy.”

“Lex is in town too, is he?” It wasn’t a question as much as an intrigued statement. When Supergirl nodded, Batwoman tapped the amulet. “Batgirl is taking one of the artifacts to safety. This is the other. I’m trying to drum up some leads.”

“Mind if I tag along? You might need the muscle.” Even after removing her bra her chest barely sagged, the benefits of youth and Kryptonian physiology. Her nipples immediately perked up in the cool night air, one of the few reactions to her state of undress.

“This is a fact-finding mission. But I also doubt I can convince you to stay away.”

“You know me so well.” Supergirl knelt, dropping her panties and picking up her discarded top. “Uh, is there a cosplay convention going on? Why is there a Supergirl costume lying around?”

“Don’t know. Found a Batgirl costume at the thieves’ hideout, too. Might be somebody trying to frame superheroes.”

“We should keep it as evidence, then.” Even as she said it, she let it fall from her fingertips, back to the heap with the rest of her outfit. She punched her palm, which wiggled the few fatty parts of her lithe body. “Alright, let’s go hit some bad guys!”

“I told you, this is a fact-finding mission.”

“Well, let’s figure out which bad guys to hit, then.”

* * *

Batgirl popped into the Watchtower, courtesy of the Boom Tube technology she only partially understood. The security cameras turned to record her—all of her. Between her neck and her shins the only piece of clothing she still wore was her utility belt. The Watchtower’s video system captured her bare breasts and her immaculately-trimmed pussy the second she came into view, and as she sauntered from the teleporters, they got a perfect close-up of the young woman’s gently swaying ass.

She only made it halfway down the hallway before Hawkgirl flew—literally and figuratively—from the security room, trying her level best to look Batgirl in the eye and only the eye. “Batgirl! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Just dropping this off in the vault.” Batgirl tapped the amulet resting on top of her tits. “It’s evidence in a robbery, but we think there’s something deeper going on deeper.”

“Not that, I mean your…” Hawkgirl fell silent as she gave in to her curiosity and glanced down at the amulet. It wasn’t to ogle her fellow superheroine’s nakedness, just to see the item in question, though she couldn’t resist just a little glance at how Batgirl looked under her skintight unitard. But as soon as she saw the amulet, Batgirl’s state of undress didn’t seem so important. It slipped completely under her notice, even as she reached behind her neck to unfasten her halter top. “I mean how you didn’t call us to say you had something we needed to secure.”

“It’s not dangerous. Probably,” she waved off her own concerns. “It’s just to be sure. You know Batwoman.”

Hawkgirl pulled her top completely off and started on her leggings, shimmying her panties down with them. “It doesn’t matter. League protocol is that anything going in the vault requires at least two members, in case something happens. And since I’m on duty, I’ll accompany you.”

“Sure, why not?” Batgirl’s chest bounced when she shrugged, but not nearly as much as Hawkgirl’s did when she kicked her bottoms and boots against the wall, leaving her in nothing but a golden mask and a half-hearted scowl. “Maybe we can talk to a few other people too, see if anybody can tell what this is?”

“Alright. We’ll take the long way.” Hawkgirl lifted one breast, rubbing her thumb over her nipple. It wasn’t a conscious thought, just a natural instinct like breathing or remembering how to walk. Batgirl didn’t say a word, not with her own fingers inching their way between her legs, and they set off down the hallway, two effectively-naked woman bringing the amulet even deeper into the Watchtower.

* * *

“This isn’t your normal haunt.”

Catwoman didn’t jump when Batwoman snuck up on her, not any more. A jolt of adrenaline still surged through her body, her knuckles tightened near her whip, but she no longer gave her sometimes-ally, sometimes-enemy the satisfaction of seeing her panic. She only smirked, assuming Batwoman could hear it in her voice. “And what is?”

“Penthouses. Art shows. Museums.”

“You make me sound so predictable.” She stood from her perch at the top of the fire escape and stretched, deliberately teasing every curve packed into her tight black catsuit. Batwoman never reacted, but she liked to imagine the fantasies she triggered in the emotionless hero’s head. “Isn’t this what we good guys do? Scout, patrol, keep watch for—oh, interesting.”

Batwoman’s eyes narrowed as Catwoman caught sight of the amulet resting against her cleavage. “Look familiar?”

Catwoman’s eyes, though, weren’t on the jewelry. They preferred the ample chest, secure inside a plain sports bra. “I wish. If I could get my hands on…” Now she spotted the artifact, and a dozen ways to tease the half-naked superheroine fell by the wayside. Batwoman’s luscious breasts, her iron-clad stomach, her panties peeking from the rolled-down waist of her pants, they just didn’t matter any more. The amulet itself, however, that was interesting. “If I could get my hands on that little trinket, I can think of a half-dozen people who would be willing to pay a real premium for it.”

“I bet.”

“Collectors, honey. All on the up-and-up.” She took a deep breath as her zipper slid down to her navel, letting the cool night air finally flow into the confines of her suit. She peeled it off, never breaking the flow of conversation even as the black spandex gave way to carefully-maintained skin. “My days of finding fences are behind me.”

Batwoman didn’t glance down, not even to take note of the bra and panties Catwoman kept under her catsuit—lacy, sexy, elegant, and far more impractical than she would have worn herself. “So you’ve said.”

Catwoman’s bra fell over the edge of the fire escape, wafting to the alley below. She spread her arms and tilted her hips, the same casual flirting she always used with Batwoman, thought it took on another tone when her gloves and her cat-ear headpiece were the only adornments she wore above the waist. “Are you just here to tease me? Or did you and your floating friend have something else to say?”

Finally she got a reaction from the caped crusader, a small grunt. Catwoman had heard Supergirl mumbling before Batwoman had said a single word, and if she had looked up she would have seen a flying blond girl wearing only boots and a miniskirt, which might have led to a very different conversation. But as it was, none of the flesh before her merited her attention, nor did either of her ostensible allies say anything when she hooked her thumbs in her panties and pulled them off her legs along with the remains of her uniform. It was just a normal conversation on a normal night in Gotham, with the abnormal result of Batwoman begrudgingly acknowledging Catwoman’s well-honed senses. “Do you recognize this amulet?”

“Hmm…” She stepped out of her boots and bent full at the waist, putting her face inches from Batwoman’s tits and sticking her ass out far more than necessary. “Not right away. I’m guessing Greek, and old. But it doesn’t ring any bells.”

“If you had a piece like this, how would you try to sell it?”

“Hypothetically?”

“Hypothetically.”

“I wouldn’t. It’s not blingy enough for me to pass it off without attaching a story to it. I’d have to have a buyer lined up first, which means I’d need somebody who wanted this in particular. Whoever stole this wasn’t looking for a random score, they were looking for this specifically.”

“I didn’t say it was stolen.”

“You didn’t have to.” Catwoman’s fingers traced up Batwoman’s bare arm and dipped into her cleavage, but neither they nor their onlooker noticed the extra skin-on-skin contact. “Sorry, I’m afraid you and the Girl of Steel are on your own here.”

“We’ll figure something out. Have fun ‘keeping watch’.”

“I intend to.” She turned away and leaned over the railing, softly swaying her rear as she watched the street. She knew Batwoman probably wasn’t checking her out when she disappeared into the night. But it was nice to pretend.

* * *

The gym on the Watchtower had several safety measures built into its equipment, keeping them accessible to both island-lifting powerhouses and nimble but otherwise ordinary fighters of street crime. One of those safety measures triggered when Batgirl and Hawkgirl walked into the gym, because it was the only way the barbell Wonder Woman dropped didn’t crash straight through the floor. “What in Hera’s name?”

Vixen looked up from her treadmill. “What’s wrong? Is—oh, huh.” She leapt off and let the machine slow itself while she stormed over to the new arrivals. “Girls, at least put on some workout gear…and maybe take care of yourselves in private?”

Batgirl removed her finger from between her legs and wiped it off on her flat stomach. “We’re not here to train. I’m hoping Wonder Woman can take a look at something for me.”

Vixen chuckled. “You may be overestimating how much a native of Themyscira is comfortable with random naked women showing her their goods.”

Confusion wracked Batgirl’s face. “What? I don’t understand. Can you just tell me if this amulet rings any bells?”

Wonder Woman finally set her eyes on the artifact, and she forgot all her complaints about her allies’ nudity. She wriggled out of her star-spangled bodysuit as she crossed the room, and she said nothing about groping Batgirl’s bare tits as she pulled the amulet closer. Vixen leaned in as well, but not before she crumpled her own catsuit into a bright orange bundle just above her waist and sliced her bra off with the razor-sharp claws on her gloves. Despite being inches from the chest of an equally topless pseudo-goddess, Vixen’s attention hung entirely on Batgirl’s jewelry. “Look familiar?”

“I can’t say,” Wonder Woman muttered, angling the artifact in the florescent light. “It looks Greek, but nothing of a make I’ve seen before. The style reminds me of Dionysus, but only distantly.”

Hawkgirl paused her self-satisfaction for a brief moment. “I can never keep your gods straight. Dionysus is…alcohol?”

Wonder Woman released the amulet so she could slide her bracers over her hands. None of the women said a word about them clanging to the sterile floor. “Among other things. This looks more like pieces that reference his liberator aspect. But it’s not actually a holy relic, I think. More inspired by one.” She released it and stood tall, and since her heeled boots were among the few things she did still wear, this put her breasts right at Batgirl’s eye level. “Where did you get this?”

Batgirl returned to fingering herself, ignoring her own shortness of breath and Hawkgirl’s quiet moans. “Museum robbery. Batwoman’s researching it. I’m just putting this in the vault, but I thought I’d check with you first.”

“Good plan. The last thing we need is Dionysus’s influence running rampant.” Wonder Woman nodded and returned to her lifting bench, spreading her legs wide around it and airing out her pussy for the entire room, not that anybody noticed.

Hawkgirl turned to leave and nearly tripped over Vixen’s catsuit, a solid mass of spandex neck to the shredded remains of her underwear. “Um, laundry day?”

Vixen crouched to look at her own clothes, frantically rubbing her clit the whole time, her claws only an inch from her puffy lips. “Weird. How did these get here?”

Batgirl shrugged as she left. “Seems to be going around.”

* * *

A shrill alarm echoed between narrow buildings, screaming for as much attention as possible. Batwoman dropped to a rooftop ledge and scanned the street, pinpointing its source: a masked man with a coat hanger trying to break into a car parked by the side of the road. She sighed. “You think they’d learn.”

“I got this one.” Supergirl hovered next to her, her blond hair swaying in the breeze. Normally her skirt would flutter in the same way, but that skirt currently lay on a sidewalk several blocks back, and only her cherry-red boots and alien physique protected her from the elements.

Batwoman stared at Supergirl’s backside, chasing the feeling that something was wrong the the view, but she lost the thought. “I’m heading to the north end. Catch up when you can.”

“Right. Be there in a jiff.” In a blink, Supergirl was a foot above the sidewalk with a small trial of litter blowing in her wake. She gave the man a once-over and scanned him with her x-ray vision, just in case he had a weapon about which she need be concerned. Nothing about him struck her as dangerous, so she took the hero pose she had practiced for so long and cleared her throat.

The man turned around and froze solid. His reaction didn’t surprise her; most people lost their train of thought when a superhero showed up four feet from them. Nor did it surprise her that the first thing he noticed was her chest; a sizable percentage of the crooks she caught didn’t try to hide their lust, and by now she was used to them staring agog at her long legs, short skirt, and tight tee shirt. Of course, she didn’t have said clothing to protect her, nor did she have the red underwear she usually wore under them. She was floating in midtown Gotham with her hands on her hips, one leg bent, and her athletic body on full display, and she didn’t even recognize it. The man, however, did. “Ha—ah? Um…”

She wagged her finger at him. “What, you thought only Batwoman watched this city?”

“Huh? Uh, no, that’s, I mean, no, but…wow!”

“Impressed? You can get an autograph if you want. I can give it to you in…five to ten?”

He tore himself from her chest, which shook every time she moved, and focused instead on the blond tuft peeking from between her thighs. “I don’t…what?”

“Is everybody in Gotham this articulate? I’ll use small words. You—steal—car! Bad—crime! Strong—hero—put—in—jail!”

“Jail…wait, no!” He came to his senses, though it just meant he could hold a conversation while he ogled the exhibitionist from Metropolis. “This is my car! I just locked my keys inside.”

“Right. And I’m Gorilla Grodd. This body is just an illusion!” She ran her hands over herself, hefting her tits and shaking them in the man’s face. Her fingers kept going, over her minuscule waist and to her trim hips, but when they got there they refused to leave. Her middle finger brushed against her clit, and she spread her tights to give herself some room to work, displaying her naked pussy to her quarry.

“That would…yeah…” He forgot himself again as he watched Supergirl masturbate. He didn’t know whether she sighed from pleasure or irritation, and he chose not to risk it. “But seriously, this is my car! My keys and wallet are in there, in the glove box!”

“Oh, really? Since this is your car, what else is in there?”

“Um…owner’s manual, napkins, one of those window scrapers…mint gum…”

He continued while Supergirl looked into the car, checking for everything he said. It struck her all as lucky guesses, something anybody might have, until the last item. “Say that again?”

“The action figure?”

“Of who?”

“Stargirl. She’s my daughter’s favorite.”

“Your daughter has good taste.” Supergirl blinked. “I can get you into the car. But you’re doing to stick around so I can check the license in the wallet you allegedly left there, understood?”

“Yes! Yes, thank you!” He stepped back, and as she took the coat hanger and used her x-ray vision to work it into the car door, he half-knelt to get a better look at her ass. “I’m lucky you didn’t just knock me out when you saw me.”

“Helping people isn’t always about going at something hard,” she said as one hand manipulated the wire and the other fingered her progressively wetter pussy. “Just as long as you post those pictures you’re trying to take in secret.”

He froze with his phone halfway out. “Y-you want me to post these?”

“Pictures of a superhero helping a guy get through a bad day? Of course. What’s the point in being a hero if we can’t show off every once in a while?”

She smiled as she heard the camera click. She didn’t really understand why he wanted to get so many pictures, from so many angles, but she didn’t mind a little posing. All in a day’s work.

* * *

Hawkgirl needed more training. There was no other explanation for why she would get winded just crossing the Watchtower, large as it was. If she had noticed that she was halfway to an orgasm from fondling her own breasts for several minutes, she might have realized the true cause, but as it was, she simply thought she was out of shape by the time she and Batgirl reached the cafeteria.

Black Canary, however, did notice, and she nearly choked on her sandwich when she saw the young superheroines stroll into the room, bouncing with every step. “Girls! Is—uh—is there something you want to explain?”

“Oh, this?” Batgirl pointed at her tits—or, rather, at the amulet resting atop them, but Black Canary only noticed it after a good, long look at Batgirl’s flushed, perky chest. “We’re just getting this to the vault.”

Black Canary sighed and shrugged off her jacket. “If it belongs in the vault, you shouldn’t be wearing it around.”

“What, like we’re worried about somebody stealing it from the Watchtower?”

“It’s…well…what does it do?”

“We don’t know yet,” Hawkgirl replied, even as she pinched her own nipples and hummed with simmering tension. “Batwoman’s checking it out.”

Huntress chose that moment to enter the cafeteria behind them, and her eyes fell upon the following stimuli, in order: Hawkgirl’s bare ass squirming as her thighs rubbed together, Batgirl’s legs slightly spread so she could pump two fingers in and out of her dripping pussy, Black Canary kicking off her boots so she could get her fishnet stockings over her ankles, and finally the amulet once Batgirl turned around. She blinked at the amulet, forgot everything else, and unzipped her bodysuit, parting the black material to reveal the bright skin beneath. “Nice bling.”

“Thanks.” Batgirl pushed her chest forward to show it off. “It was a gift for taking out some museum thieves. I think it goes great with my boots.”

It did, not least because the bright yellow boots were just about the only clothing on her, but Huntress saw no need to point it out. She pointed to scattered places on her own upper thighs, spots the same purple as her gloves. “And here all I get as a reward for crime-fighting is these lovely bruises.”

Black Canary sat in her chair, spread her legs, and started rubbing her pussy. “I still have a few of those on my legs from last week’s tangle with the Legion of Doom. At least you cover up your trophies with those leggings.”

Huntress nodded and dropped the first of those leggings behind her. The other stayed on for a moment as she rested her bare foot on a chair, lifted one knee high, and pushed two fingers into herself. “Well I can’t exactly go around naked, can I?”

Batgirl chuckled. “It’d be a hell of a distraction, though.”

Huntress’s free hand dislodged her cape, and she paused her masturbation only long enough to tug her gloves off, which left her in just a mask and a single thigh-high legging. “To men, maybe. And certain women. But it certainly wouldn’t help our reputation.”

The room vibrated slightly as Black Canary moaned. “I think we get enough attention from those creepy fansites. We don’t need to give the perverts any more fuel.”

“I hear that,” said Batgirl, and as she turned she showed her whole naked body to her teammates. “Gonna drop this off. We can trade stories about creeps in a minute.”

“And I have a hundred of them.” Black Canary thought about all the stares, all the comments, all the things she saw posted about her online, and a flare of anger rose in her chest. If only people would stop being such perverts…and as her knuckle circled her clit, only an extensively trained response kept her from letting a glass-shattering canary cry accompany her orgasm. Huntress had no such instinct, and as she cupped her own dangling breast and announced her release with an uncharacteristic stream of loud, filthy thanks, the security cameras continued to roll.

* * *

Batwoman’s panties hit the floor, along with the last vestiges of her willpower. They had remained with her all the way across the city as she shed her suit, her gloves, her cape, even her bra, now all distributed on various rooftops. The amulet had finally beaten back her good sense with its relentless spell, and it only spared her mask, her utility belt, and her boots, strips of black and yellow protecting her identity and very little else. In this state of near-total undress she entered Zatanna’s workshop, slipping through the private rooftop entrance. She dropped to the ground heedless of how she bounced upon landing or how Zatanna nearly choked on her coffee. “I have something for you.”

“I don’t think I want it!” Zatanna wiped down her desk, the better to avoid looking at Batwoman’s naked body. “You had better have an amazing explanation for showing up like this.”

“Sorry to come by unannounced—”

“That’s really not the problem here!”

“—but we need you to take a look at this.”

Zatanna followed the line of Batwoman’s finger and squeaked. “I don’t care how proud you are, I don’t…swing…” The amulet’s magic latched onto Zatanna’s distraction, washing away her thoughts. Her jacket fell onto the half-cleaned puddle of coffee, and her bow tie was halfway off before she could see the amulet close-up. “Wow. What’s this?”

“Not sure. We were hoping you could tell us.”

“We?”

“Supergirl’s catching up.”

“The gang’s all here, huh?” She unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it away, though she had trouble getting off her leotard with one hand occupied by inspecting the artifact. “I’m guessing it’s magic?”

Batwoman’s fingers finally made their long-awaited trek to her crotch, pushing against her clit with a force that made even her blush. “Of a sort.”

“Interesting. Yfitnedi.” She released the amulet as she worked her magic on it, and vice versa, since her spell ended right when her boots came off. “There’s definitely something here. I’m getting some kind of hypnosis, but I don’t know the specifics of the trance. What triggers it, how deep it goes, what it does…if you give me some time to—”

“Gooooood evening, Gotham!” Zatanna’s window shattered into a hundred pieces, destroyed by a whirlwind of blue and pink. Harley Quinn hit the floor and rolled upright, splaying out her legs and arms in an ostentatious pose. “Ta-da—whoa, somebody’s happy to see me!”

Two other windows caved in, and four other women barreled through them, glowing with various forms of magic. “Dammit, Harley!” yelled Star Sapphire, conjuring purple shapes to defend herself as much as to attack her own teammate. “This was supposed to be a surprise attack!”

Harley rested her oversized mallet on her shoulder. “I dunno, I’m pretty surprised.”

“How did—oh!” Star Sapphire noticed the heroes as the same time her allies did, and she reacted with a similar lack of aplomb. “Why are—is this—are you two…like that?”

Zatanna put up her gloved hands and braced her fishnet-covered legs, displaying the only clothes she had. “Are we going to kick your ass? Count on it.”

Killer Frost raised her hands. “Whoa. I didn’t sign up for mud wrestling.”

Tsukuri’s katana never wavered from Batwoman’s neck. “Don’t take them lightly. Their uniforms are not what make them formidable.”

Tala shuddered with poorly-concealed fury. “Is this why Luthor sent us here? To see this? What is he planning?”

Batwoman’s hand—the one that wasn’t savaging her own pussy—crept toward her belt. “Luthor, is it?”

“Really?” Star Sapphire huffed. “Way to give away the game, Tala.”

“Yeah, this is all suddenly Tala’s fault!” Harley stuck out her tongue. “But don’t worry! I’ll save us from the Ladies Godiva with a patented Harley actual surprise sneak attack!” She pounded the handle of her mallet on the ground. One of its faces popped open like a lid, shooting metal balls into the room. Multicolored smoke poured out of them, blinding the heroes and the villains alike. Something tugged at the amulet, and Batwoman felt its cord snap around her neck. A flurry of activity whipped the fog around in quick, strong gusts, but when Batwoman’s vision finally cleared, the villains were gone, and so was the artifact.

“Ria raelc!” Zattana coughed, and the room returned to its earlier state, albeit with a dusting of rainbows glitter on every surface. “Okay, what? Also, the hell?”

“The Legion of Doom.” Batwoman rushed to the window. “And they’re working with Luthor, here in Gotham.”

“Yeah, no kidding. How is…whoa! Your suit!”

Batwoman looked at the familiar emblem on her chest, only to see an equally-familiar rack. She reached for her cape to cover herself, but its familiar weight didn’t rest against her backside. “My suit…and yours. Something in the smoke must have damaged them.” She slid into the shadows, the only modesty she could get on such short notice.

“Yeah,” Zatanna nodded and brushed glitter off her panties before she tugged them on. “Yeah, that makes sense. Enog eb rettilg! …ugh, even magic can’t get rid of this stuff.”

“Whatever the amulet does, if Luthor wants it, we have to make sure he doesn’t get it.” Batwoman reached for the communicator in her belt, which she thankfully still had, no doubt due to its high-tech, very expensive construction. “We need the Justice League.”

“And a new uniform.”

“And that, yes.”

* * *

Batgirl typed her passcode into the computer with fingers still sticky from her pussy juices. Just behind her, Hawkgirl leaned against the wall, her fingers a blur around her crotch. “Fuck! Fuck, I’m cumming! Yes, yes, yes, yes! Oh, fuuuuuuck!” She raised her body up on her toes and arched her back, shaking from top to bottom with the second orgasm she had given herself during the walk from the security room. Batgirl ignored it completely, just as if she’d merely heard Hawkgirl sneezing, and a moment later it was quiet save for Hawkgirl’s ragged breath and the wet friction of Batgirl’s own hand. The deposit box opened, and Batgirl laid the amulet in it while Hawkgirl peered over her shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe we should bring it to somebody else before we put it away. Who else is good with magic?”

“I’m sure Batwoman’s on it.” Batgirl closed the tiny door and waited for the lock inside to engage. “We’ve done our part and gotten this one out of the wild.”

“I suppose. There’s no use arguing with Batwoman’s plan anyway, whatever it is.”

“Now you’re getting it.” Batgirl smirked as the girls left the vault, letting the automated systems seal it behind them. “Speaking of which, I should get back down there. Still a lot of patrolling to do.”

She rounded the corner and ran straight into Wonder Woman’s well-secured bosom, nearly knocking herself on her naked rear. Wonder Woman shielded her eyes, peeking at the sidekick over her fingers. “Batgirl! I see it reached here as well.”

“Here? What did?”

“Your state of undress.”

“My…what are you talking—ahh!” Now free of the amulet’s influence, Batgirl slapped her forearm over her chest and covered her pussy with the hand she had moments ago used to fill it knuckle-deep. “My suit! What happened to my suit?”

Hawkgirl’s wings folded around herself, and her full-body blush covered everything they didn’t. “Are we under attack?”

“It’s not clear.” Wonder Woman lowered her hand, but remained careful to look her allies only in the eyes. “We noticed something similar in the gym a few minutes after you came by. Our clothing strewn around—or, in Vixen’s case, partially destroyed—in an instant, without our notice. It may be some villain trying to rob us of our equipment.”

“And our dignity,” Hawkgirl grumbled. “Where are our uniforms? Shouldn’t they be right here?”

“We found yours near the entrance. Batgirl’s, I’m afraid, is nowhere to be found.”

Batgirl examined herself visually, keeping her naked backside against the wall. “I still have my belt, though. If somebody’s trying to disarm us, they did a shoddy job of it. I’ll have to—”

“Watchtower. Come in.”

Batgirl had her fingers halfway to her earpiece before she felt her chest bounce free again, and her modesty left only the dressed superhero free to answer. “Batwoman, this is Wonder Woman. We have a situation here.”

“So do we. The Legion of Doom.”

She rolled her eyes. “It figures.”

”They attacked us and took an amulet we were investigating. Has Batgirl secured the other one in the vault?”

Batgirl gave Wonder Woman a sheepish thumbs-up. “Yes, it’s safe.”

”Good. We’ll need some help down here.”

“I’ll rally the troops.” Wonder Woman nodded at Batgirl and Hawkgirl. “Get your backup clothing. We’ll deal with this problem once we’ve handled the Legion of Doom.”

* * *

By the time the assembled Justice League arrived in downtown Gotham, the Legion of Doom had already made a mark for themselves, upending cars, smashing storefronts, and engaging in dedicated if haphazard chaos. Most citizens of the city had enough experience with supervillains to know to keep their distance when one went on a rampage, but on this night the Legion of Doom had gathered a decent crowd. Dozens of people lingered on the fringes of the action, staying out of the path of carnage but remaining close enough to witness it all. A gracious observer might say this was because such a large crew of villains rarely appeared together at the same time, but anybody being even a little honest with themselves would admit it had more to do with their total, brazen lack of clothing. The state of undress varied from woman to woman—Tsukuri still wore a few piece of armor along with her mask, Star Sapphire kept only her headpiece and bright purple boots so tall they almost gave her some actual modesty, and Killer Frost didn’t have a single stitch on her—and the only items they shared were identical amulets around each woman’s bare neck.

Supergirl covered her eyes, badly. “Oh, God, them too?”

Zattana stopped with her hands halfway up. “Too? You mean you—”

“It’s been going around.” Hawkgirl spotted an amulet and tugged her hastily-donned top back down her chest, letting her breasts pop free. “Either they haven’t noticed, or they just don’t care.”

Batgirl chuckled with a wry smirk. “Harley definitely doesn’t care. Heck, she’s probably loving it.” She tossed her gloves behind her and reached for her zipper again.

Wonder Woman cleared her throat as she pulled her bodysuit over her hips, baring her ass to the delight of the man gathered behind her. “If we’re done gossiping, it’s time to take care of the five of them.”

“Six.” Batwoman fought with her hands, resisting the urge to shed the suit Zatanna had conjured for her and slowly losing. She nodded toward Lex Luthor, lingering against a building with an amulet of his own. While the rest of the League jumped into battle, she made her way to the Legion’s ringleader, leaving a trail of clothing behind her. “Luthor.”

“Ah, the Batwoman.” He managed not to look as one of his biggest enemies pulled her bra over his head, but it took most of his willpower. “It seems some supervillains are causing some havoc in your city. Maybe you should deal with them.”

“Save it. I know you’re involved in this. I’m not losing you.”

He smirked and watched her hand stick to her crotch like a magnet. “Oh, you’ve already lost, Batwoman. You just won’t know it for a few minutes more.” He relaxed and sat back to watch the fireworks; Batwoman still loomed over him, but even such a menacing figure lost some of her intimidation factor when she was masturbating on a public street.

Only a few yards away, the Legion and the League made contact, separating into pairs so they could fight one-on-one. Supergirl reached her target first, a benefit of super speed, punching straight through one of Star Sapphire’s energy constructs. “Huh. I thought they’d be tougher. I guess Green Lantern’s that much stronger than you are.”

“Strength isn’t everything, girl. There’s also leverage!” Purple light rushed from Star Sapphire and circled Supergirl’s wrists and ankles. It formed solid shapes and snapped into place, forming two pairs of manacles that stretched the Kryptonian spread-eagle. Star Sapphire laughed, oblivious to how openly she displayed the naked superheroine to the rapt crowd. “It’s time I expose you as the rookie you are.”

Across the street, Killer Frost whipped up energy of her own, blowing a frigid wind at Hawkgirl. Her sky-blue chest, topped by deep blue nipples, bounced as she cackled, and her whole body writhed as she rubbed her pussy against the cap of a frozen fire hydrant. “What’s wrong, birdie? How’s about you fly south for the winter?”

Hawkgirl protected herself with her mace, though it didn’t stop the chill air from leaving her even perkier than before. “Like I haven’t heard that one a dozen times.” She gritted her teeth, forging onward through the cold.

Tala flew around Zatanna, blasting at the magician with beams of energy. Her hair hovered around her, long enough to cover her sculpted ass if it hadn’t been floating as she used her powers. “This is no place for a third-rate magician who only knows parlor tricks!” she yelled, her eyes filled with manic fury. “You’ll never get to Luthor without going through me!”

“Dleihs! That’s the idea!” Zattana hid behind a floating manhole cover, suspended by her own magic. She fumbled with her bow tie and fishnets, but they remained on as she focused on staying alive.

“Incoming!” Harley Quinn, a blur of white skin, leapt onto Batgirl while the superhero was kicking off her panties. She landed on Batgirl’s shoulders and wrapped her thighs around her head, clamping down on her airway. It didn’t occur to her when she linked her sneaker-clad ankles behind Batgirl’s back that this mashed her pussy against another woman’s face, even when her clit brushed Batgirl’s nose and triggered a loud, eye-rolling moan.

“Mm—mmph!” Batgirl tried to speak, but her lips only teased Harley further. She grimaced through Harley’s two-toned bush and grabbed her thighs, trying to pry them apart. With only boots, gloves, and her mask on, she didn’t even have her arms free to hide her nudity, not that she would have if she could.

Tsukuri swung her blade at Wonder Woman, fencing the Amazon back into an alleyway. She swayed back and forth in a blur of red, keeping up an offensive with her fingers mashed against her clit. “Please realize, I don’t want to kill you. Luthor’s paying a very large amount for us to perform some property damage. This is just business.”

“Yeah.” Wonder Woman blocked a swing with her bracers, the only thing she had on besides her tiara. They formed gold streaks as she moved them in and out, protecting her vital organs while keeping at least one hand clamped around her breasts at all time. She pinched her nipple and gasped, throwing back her head in an accidental feint, and when Tsukuri fell out of place to follow, Wonder Woman laid her out with a single punch to the stomach. “Likewise.”

A nearby car window shattered as Supergirl screamed, but the manacles held fast, gradually pulling her wrists backward. Her back arched, thrusting her tits into the air. Star Sapphire gritted her teeth, equally focused on keeping up her constructs and rubbing her own thighs. “See? It’s not about the size of your grasp, but how tight you squeeze.”

With a burst of effort, Supergirl craned her head forward and looked at Star Sapphire. She didn’t see the bare body sandwiched between a purple top and bottom, only the dark hair swaying behind it. She narrowed her eyes and shot a beam from her heat vision, catching Star Sapphire’s hair on fire. The manacles evaporated while Star Sapphire flailed, and in the space of a breath Supergirl knocked her out. “Funny, I agree,” she picked up the villain with one hand and grabbed her own tit with the other, “but I squeeze tighter.”

“Hraaaaah!” Hawkgirl hurled her mace at Killer Frost, taking advantage of a moment of distraction. She didn’t know the distraction was because of the orgasm rippling through Killer Frost’s body, only that her enemy looked away, and thus it was the perfect time to strike. The villain fell off the hydrant, and though Hawkgirl did retrieve her, she first rubbed her breasts against the cold metal, shuddering for reasons she didn’t comprehend.

“Why! Won’t! You! Die!” Tala hurled spell after spell at Zatanna, constantly foiled by the magician’s quick thinking and quicker tongue—even with both hands working away at her pussy, Zatanna could still cast with only her mouth. “You can’t even attack! All you can do is sit there and hide!” Her barrage faltered as she ran out of breath, and she laid her hand against her chest tattoo, the only spot of black covering her body.

Zatanna snapped to attention, through her stocking-clad legs stayed spread as wide as a contortionist’s. She pointed one froth-slathered finger at Tala and shouted her first offensive spell: “Uoy dniheb!” Tala finched and braced herself for an assault, which meant she didn’t see the blue mailbox before it clipped her in the back of the head. She fell face-down, her bare ass jiggling for a few long seconds while Zatanna panted.

Batgirl, low on air herself, dug her yellow fingers into Harley’s thighs. While Harley obliviously ground her pussy against her rival’s nose, Batgirl broke into a running charge. She barely saw a car around Harley’s thin white waist, and she bent forward at just the right time to slam the supervillain back-first into the windshield. The legs relaxed and Batgirl pulled back, though instead of arresting Harley her first act was to idly rub her aching clit. “Thanks for letting me watch wrestling, Dad,” she muttered. “Looks like I learned more than just what clothing can survive a fight.”

With the threat ended, the police rushed onto the scene, snapping handcuffs around every one of the villains. None of the women nearby, not even Batwoman, noticed any of the male officers taking any liberties with the nearly-naked criminals, nor did they say a word when the female officers stripped down to match. The heroes gathered, a show of solidarity, putting a rainbow of boots, gloves, and other accessories on display framing a collection of six fit, voluptuous bodies. Dozens of phones snapped picture after picture, and a few video cameras joined in, with one led to the Justice League by a skinny, nude redhead. “Summer Gleeson, Gotham Live. Can we get a shot of our triumphant heroes?”

As the police led Lex Luthor into the back of the wagon with his exhibitionist allies, he couldn’t help but smile. It had been great to watch both the Justice League and the Legion of Doom prancing around in their birthday suits. And still, despite all he had seen, the true show was about to begin. The heroes lined up for their moment in the spotlight, some with more enthusiasm than others, and the cameras all took positions to get every moment on film. Even the officers escorting him paused, staring at the impromptu show and letting him have clear sight of the culmination of his master plan.

Supergirl caught his eye first as she hovered above the rest, an easy sight for even the people in the back of the crowd. She didn’t have her skirt or boots any more, and nothing protected her completely naked body from the onlookers gathered to watch her finish herself off. She ignored them just as the amulet ordered, massaging her clit at superhuman speed. Her knees lifted higher and higher until her ankles floated above her hips, blatantly exposing her masturbation to the cameras. No matter how hard she bit her lip she couldn’t entirely keep her voice under control, and her glass-rattling “fuck, yes, fuck, yes, FUCK, YES!” seemed like the starting bell for the other women arrayed under her.

Wonder Woman had much the opposite technique, though she showed it off just as openly. She crouched low so she could get her knees wide apart, putting her head at crotch-level and no doubt inspiring many a fantasy in the men who saw her. One bracer-clad wrist pushed against the small of her back, a sign of the bondage fetish Lex had always suspected she secretly held. Her tousled hair almost covered her tiara, but it was still very obviously the Amazonian heroine who stroked herself off, releasing only a steady stream of “Great Dionysus, yes, I’m almost there…” until her thighs jerked, her arms twitched, and a satisfied smile crept over her face.

Every way Wonder Woman was a pinnacle of mature, stoic beauty, Batgirl was not. She had one yellow boot propped against a mailbox and one gloved arm leaning on a streetlight, putting her at an odd diagonal while she jammed two fingers into her sopping wet pussy. Her purple mask still covered her face, but not her eyes or mouth, leaving it painfully obvious how much her eyes rolled back and how far her tongue lolled out of her gaping lips. She didn’t say anything intelligible, just half-formed grunts like “Ahh! Ahh-eeeh! Aaah, aah, aaaaaah!” But her lack of diction didn’t cloud her meaning, and her crossed eyes and drooling mouth almost took attention away from the perky tits jiggling uncontrollably with every spasm that wracked her slim body.

“Fuck!” Hawkgirl shouted, with one hand grinding against her bud and the other popping herself up on a building. “Fuck, how does…how does it feel…so…gooood!” A brick shattered in her grip and her wings unfurled, along the most obvoius tells Lex had ever seen. She trembled like a woman who had never cum before: bucking her hips, shaking her knees, jerking her head back and forth so hard her helmet nearly flew off. Her legs gave out and she fell forward, curled into a ball while she begged her witnesses, “More! I want more! Give it to me!”

Lex almost didn’t see Zatanna, not through the mass of bodies in the way. A group of topless female officers moved to push the crowd back, and then he finally found her, lying on the sidewalk. She had likely started off kneeling, but as lust took over she had bent farther and farther back, and now she only had her tiptoes and shoulders on the ground. The rest of her, from her fishnet-covered knees to the bow tie around her neck, was completely arched, and she humped into the air like she was trying to throw somebody off. “Gnimmuc gnimmuc gnimmuc gnimmuc gnimmuc!” she screamed, and she shoved several fingers into her pussy one last time before somebody blocked the view again.

Only Batwoman had held out thus far, no doubt the result of her admirable mental fortitude. But no woman could totally resist the amulet’s effect, and just as she eventually found herself down to her mask, belt, and boots, she too succumbed to the hypnotic command. As the women around her came as loudly as possible, she gritted her teeth, suppressing outward displays of her arousal much like how she had tried to ignore it in the first place. But her flushed chest, the hard nipples at the ends of her quivering breasts, the pussy juice shining on her fingers, and the sheen of sweat all over her body betrayed her feelings. The sound she loosed was barely human, more like an animal at the end of a hunt, a protracted “Uuuuuuhhhnnn!” as she hunched over. Lex thought he saw her eyes roll back just like her protégé’s, and then she was back in control, albeit with her other hand crawling toward her pussy to join in on her next impending orgasm.

One by one all six heroes came again, showing their fans and the world how they looked in the throes of orgasm, completely blind to the effect their unintentional display had on the men who would no doubt play this memory, or this video, over and over again. Lex tilted back his head and laughed as the wagon doors shut. It was a shame he couldn’t stick around, but it was safer this way. In a few minutes, after the amulets got some distance from the heroes and they realized what had happened, where their clothes were, and what they had done in front of uncountable witnesses, he didn’t want to be somewhere the Justice League could reach him. Better to let this one play itself out.

Besides, he had a wagon full of masturbating supervillains to keep him company in the interim.


	2. Begin Phase Two

“Y’know, I’m starting to think Gotham isn’t as safe a city as it’s made out to be.” Harley Quinn reclined against the side of the police van, staring dreamily at the ceiling. “Sure, there’s all the crime, and corruption, and the disasters, and us, I guess. But a girl should be able to bust up a city block without a—mmm, yeah, that’s it—a buncha cops thinking they can get handsy with her!” Her dramatic sigh rose in pitch and volume, transitioning into a full-blown lusty moan. She decided not to drum her fingers on her leg, heedless of what they were actually doing: burrowing into her own pussy with mindless fury, a hole so drenched with honey it practically shone in the bland florescent light. “Seriously, I think Sargent Barerra frisked me so… _hah, hah, haaaaa_ rd I’m wondering if villain health insurance covers mammograms. Oh! Oh, yeah! Oh, fuck, you think we can sue them for harassment?”

Lex Luthor smirked at her, then returned to wrinkling his nose. The smell of sex had filled the van to capacity, the result of five women all hurling themselves into depravity like amateur camgirls four hours into a cosplay show. Harley, naked and pale white below her mask, had her legs stretched nearly across the entire space, a feat of athleticism that let her hump her fingers nearly as hard as they slammed into her cunt. On one side of her, Killer Frost hunched over with her wrists between her legs, grinding the metal base of her handcuffs until they iced over, with her eyes cloudier than usual and her tongue nearly dry from lolling out. On the other, Star Sapphire put her concentration into defying her power-dampening manacles, not to break free of police custody but to create a floating energy dildo, which spun and fucked her until she squirted yet again onto Harley’s extended leg. Even Tsukuri, normally so stoic and silent, ignored them all as usual, mumbling and staring at the wall, her fingers an absolute blur around her clit. And Tala? She was getting what she’d always wanted. None of the women actively participated with each other because they didn’t notice anything amiss—in fact, they didn’t even consciously know what they were doing to themselves. He owed his excellent view to the amulets, the bronze discs resting atop five pairs of naked, heaving breasts.

Star Sapphire came down from her high first, slumping after another floor-drenching orgasm and licking her purple lips. “It’s a clever idea, but I doubt it’s what our fearless leader had in mind.” Despite her overt sarcasm, she still rolled her hips as she looked at him, already working up to her next peak. “What part of your brilliant plan gets us all sent to prison?”

“Oh, God!” Harley bit her finger and arched her back, supporting her body only with her shoulders against the wall and the tips of her toes. “Yeah, babe, just like that! Just like that! Fuck, I’m gonna cum! I’m cumming! Cumming, fuck, fuck, cumming, fuck, cum—”

“Shut up!” Killer Frost roared, almost as loud as the rest of Harley’s screams. Her grinding stopped only long enough for her to turn toward Harley, pointing her bare blue pussy at her orgasmic ally. “How the fuck am I supposed to think when you won’t stop screaming in my ear?!”

Star Sapphire laughed into a groan and back again as the dildo pushed even deeper. “Think? I wasn’t aware you could.”

“Bitch, I don’t have to think to twist that pointy mask into a knot around your neck.”

“Children,” Tsukuri muttered, and the room devolved into a screaming match. As soon as she could speak again Harley joined in, tossing blame for their failure all around the room. Lex chuckled at the sight, four women—even Tsukuri got into it, though she delivered more short, pointed barbs than expletive-laden tirades—jumping to point sex-soaked fingers in each other’s faces, shoving each other with no regard for the extended skin-on-skin contact, and still cumming their brains out regularly with their legs wrapped around each other. It was an excellent final push for his own orgasm shot deep into the womb of the slender, violet-haired witch in his lap. With an amulet of her own, she too felt an instinctual urge to masturbate heedless of her audience or conscious will. She just did it more directly than the others, by planting herself in Lex’s lap and riding him until her knees shuddered and her blank white eyes rolled.

She rubbed her back against his chest and nuzzled his neck, with a single hair flip as the only indication of anything out of place. “Ignore them, Lex. I understand your plan. You, me, a private holding cell, and all night to ourselves…” She put her best into seducing him, as she always did. To her nothing was different—she didn’t remember leaving her dress in a basement several miles away, she didn’t feel a draft from her small, perky breasts heaving in the open air, and she didn’t even notice Lex’s cock wedged inside her, locking in a fresh creampie. She only knew she lusted after him, a logical escalation from her standard flirtation. To her, everything was normal. That was the point.

Lex, however, noticed everything. The amulets didn’t work on men the way they worked on women, and he kept his wits about him despite the nude villains squawking and masturbating almost to the point of collapse. “Not tonight.” He lifted Tala off his dick and pushed her to her feet, ignoring the pathetic pout she returned. As soon as he was free, Tsukuri seized the opportunity, breaking from the fracas to take Tala’s place. Lex watched his new Asian lover settle in his lap, scowling at the other women while she sunk inch by inch until his full, cum-covered length rested inside her. He waved his hand at her as she began to bounce, even knowing Tala wouldn’t understand anything amiss with the sight. “By the time we reach our destination, I think I’ll be too drained for any extracurriculars. But don’t worry. Despite appearances, we’re still going by the plan.”

All the women stopped masturbating for a moment except for Tsukuri, who continued trying to wring another load of sperm out of Luthor’s dick. Harley, ever the talker, replied first. “Uh, not for nothin’, Lex, but this don’t feel like a win just yet.”

“Patience, ladies. We’re just getting started.” Lex smiled as the orgy picked back up, and the van filled with the familiar slaps and squelches he had come to know. “When we reach the jail and I get some time to myself, we enter phase two.”

* * *

Brandon collapsed onto his sofa with barely the energy to grunt when the familiar broken spring stabbed his lower back. His television—still a CRT—reflected each line in his haggard face. A pile of unread mail collapsed on the thrift-store table before him, disturbing the layer of dust; after a long, grueling day cleaning the facilities at a Gotham branch of LexCorp, he could barely pull together the energy to eat, much less spend his limited free time scrubbing his own apartment. He repeated his mantra—”eighteen more minutes, eighteen more minutes”, a reminder of his daily vacation time accrual—as he sank into the musty cushions. It was easier to think he was actually building a reserve of time off for an eventual holiday rather than paying back the debt he owed for spending his vacation time and sick leave far earlier than his co-workers. It wasn’t fair. If he was going to work so hard, he should at least have a family or friends to come home to instead of another few hours in front of the television before he slept just enough to survive tomorrow’s shift.

He flailed for the remote and pointed it vaguely at the television, letting it hang in his hand while the screen flickered to life. He didn’t even remember what he had watched the night before. The TV started on a news channel, or something else with an interview, where a talking head smirked at him through an ominous haze of orange. For once he recognized the face: Lex Luthor, his boss’s boss’s boss’s boss’s boss’s boss. Or maybe there was another boss in between? Whatever. It wasn’t like he’d ever have any actual contact with the CEO of the company where he powerwashed chemical tanks and scrubbed metal floors, especially when one of them was in jail.

Luthor didn’t say anything to the interviewer, though his expression did fall from a sneer into a glare. “You could at least act surprised to see me, Mister Townsend.”

Brandon’s heart jumped. What were the odds that the other person on the TV show shared his last name? He laughed at the thought.

“I’m glad to see I amuse you.”

…wait. “Mister Luthor?”

“Good, I was starting to wonder if you knew who I was.”

The remote bounced off the carpet. “A-a-are you talking to me?”

“Of course I am. And sit up, you look like a slob.”

He jumped bolt-upright on his couch, ignoring the piercing spring. “How? How are you on my television?”

“Mister Townsend, if I told you, do you think you’d understand?”

Brandon’s eyes flicked around his room, searching for cameras or microphones. “…no?”

“Good answer.” Luthor nodded at him, and the lump in his throat fell into his ribs. “I don’t have long, so try to pay attention. I’m sure you’re aware of my recent incarceration and the events around it.”

Brandon nodded. Who wasn’t? There hadn’t been a bigger news story in years. At this point, everybody in the world with access to media had seen the photos and videos of the Justice League naked and masturbating on a public street or broad moonlight, and every man (or, statistically, about 96% of men and 5% of women) had spent a great amount of time poring over the footage, recorded only a dozen blocks from his apartment. Brandon himself had downloaded the high-definition live feeds before they had been taken down, and the ensuing masturbatory marathon had cost him his remaining vacation days and a trip to the pharmacy for a cream to relieve chafing. From what he’d heard, he wasn’t alone. If a person was at all attracted to women, they were likely in a similar situation if not quite as intense. He opened his mouth but, in a rare glimmer of foresight, decided not to explain how he jerked himself ragged watching the same event where one of the most powerful men in the world had been arrested. No, Brandon would play it cool. “I’ve seen a few reports.”

“I bet you have.” Luthor’s raised eyebrow blew away Brandon’s misplaced calm in an instant. “Since you’re caught up, how would you like to get your grubby hands on some of those women?”

“…what?”

“I have connections that will allow you to infiltrate the Watchtower under the guise of an upstanding member of the janitorial staff, and while there you will have free reign with all the superheroines your heart desires.”

“…what?”

Luthor rubbed the bridge of his nose. “God, why aren’t the necessary ones ever smart? I’m getting you a job at the Justice League’s space station, and you’re going to have sex with them. Understood?”

This had to be a joke, right? Or a fever dream. Maybe Brandon had inhaled too many chemicals at work. He knew he should have made sure his mask was on right. “Okay, I understand,” he lied, “but how would it even work?”

“You wouldn’t be the first plant I’ve had in their organization. Let’s just say their hiring system isn’t as robust as they think.”

“No, I meant, how would I have sex with Wonder…with all of them?”

“Ah, of course. I should have known the mechanics of corporate espionage weren’t your primary interest.” Brandon recognized the look on Luthor’s face from most of his teachers, co-workers, and ex-girlfriends. “Did you notice the amulets the heroes were wearing, or were you too distracted?”

“The necklaces?”

“Yes, the _necklaces_. The amulets affected the minds of the women who wore them. The same amulets have a different effect when worn by a man. They make the wearer totally imperceptible. Silent. Invisible. A ghost who cannot be detected by even the most sophisticated technology.”

“So if I had one of those, a woman wouldn’t notice if I touched her?”

“Not just touched her, Mister Townsend. You could bend a woman over and take her in the middle the Gotham Freeway, and nobody would give you so much as a passing glance.”

Brandon started to put two and two together. “And if I’m on the Justice League space station, I could do it with all those superheroes?”

“I’m counting on it.”

“That would be amazing! Any man would kill for a chance to…wait. Why me? Why not a supervillain, or…or you?”

Luthor’s smug cheer returned to his voice. “Good, you’re thinking. Rest assured, the amulet isn’t dangerous. I’m sending you because you’re the only person who can do it. My extensive research shows you have a specific deficiency that makes you uniquely suited for the job.”

“Are you saying I’m stupid?”

“Not out loud. I mean you have a genetic quirk, a mutation that suppresses the development of superpowers. Any child of yours is guaranteed to be an ordinary, humdrum boy or girl, even if their other parent is a genius, an athlete, or a Kryptonian. It’s a rare trait, found in only one in a thousand men, and among those men we found your other inheritable traits made you best suited to this opportunity.”

“But that doesn’t matter unless…wait. Wait, wait, wait. It sounds like you’re expecting me to go to the Justice League, have sex with the heroes there, and knock them up.”

Luthor snapped his fingers, the first time Brandon had seen anything below his neck. “And he’s figured it out. You, Mister Townsend, are going to give the entire Justice League little bundles of joy, burdens to keep them out of the public eye and away from crime-fighting for months or years, and gifts who will never grow up to follow in their mothers’ brightly-colored boots. These children won’t be superheros. They’ll be just like you.”

His nearly-bare apartment came back into focus, and his head dipped as he mulled over Luthor’s full meaning. Just like him? No family, no friends, no relationships, no savings, stuck in a dead-end job, literally counting the minutes until their next day off? “But…that sounds awful.”

“Awful is what they make of it, Mister Townsend. Rest assured, the mothers of your children will be able to care for them far better than you might expect. The kids will never be scientists or gold medalists, but who is? Are you so concerned about it that you would give up a chance to have your way with the entire Justice League, and get paid while you do it?”

“Yeah, paid a janitor’s salary.”

“Then how does seven figures sound?”

Seven…figures? He must have meant dollars. Seven dollars per hour, even less than minimum wage. “It’s…”

“Millions. Millions of dollars, and a one-way ticket to any location of your choice when it’s all said and done. As long as you’re leaving the country. It’s another reason you’re perfect for this job. It’s easy to subject me to a paternity test, but some random gentleman in Europe? Tracing a child to you would be nearly impossible. All I ask is that you have as much fun as possible along the way.”

Brandon’s eyes lost sight of the room. This was wrong, wasn’t it? Lex Luthor was a supervillain, according to the news. This was an evil plan. He’d basically said as much when he talked about how pregnant heroines would be on the sidelines for months. How many people would get hurt because there were fewer heroes to save them? And what about the women themselves? How would they feel about it?

Then again, he reasoned, they wouldn’t feel much, would they? They would never know he was the one who had done it. If any of them had a boyfriend or husband, they would probably just assume a child was his. It was exactly the sort of thing couples planned for. And there were a lot of superheroes, so if a few went on maternity leave now and again, the others could pick up the slack. At least he’d know the women were safe and sound instead of kidnapped by aliens or something. And if he refused, Luthor would just find another person to do it. One in every thousand men? So, what, twenty or thirty thousand men in Gotham alone? Had he refused, Luthor would offer the same deal to somebody else and there was nothing Brandon could do to stop it. But if he accepted, he would be in the best position he could imagine. He could grope Wonder Woman, taste Vixen, smell Supergirl, spank Black Canary, and fuck every single one of them as often as he wanted with no repercussions.

“I’ll do it.” He didn’t say it. The words left his mouth without his consent, and his stomach reeled as he heard them in his own voice.

“Excellent.” Luthor nodded at something off-camera. “My assistant will visit you within the week. She will bring you the amulet and give you all the information you need for your new job. Oh, and Mister Townsend?”

“Y-yes, Mister Luthor?”

“Congratulations.” The television shut off on its own, plunging the room into darkness.


	3. Cape and Cowl

Brandon never knew a simple knock could sound so imperative. Was it just anxiety at what lurked behind the door causing his heart rate to skyrocket, or was it something in the actual force of the sound? Just a simple tap on the door, yet to him it felt harsh and commanding even without the overbearing volume of an irritated landlord. Fear tore him in two, urging him toward the door but keeping him rooted on the couch he knew. Should he answer it? Could he afford not to? What if it was all a trap, and the—  
  
“I don’t have all day.” A woman’s voice had him bolt-upright in a second, in more ways than one. He raced to the door and unfastened the locks (all apartments in Gotham came standard with at least two deadbolts), nearly bruising his fingers in the process. He pulled the door open, and before he could get out of the way a woman shouldered past him with enough strength to send him a step back. She scanned his front room with discerning eyes just below the brim of a chauffeur’s cap, and an ankle boot with a sensibly low heel nudged one of the dirty socks piled on the carpet. “Classy.”  
  
“Um, can—“  
  
“The door.”  
  
“Right.” He closed his front door with a near-slam. “So how—“  
  
“ID.”  
  
“What? Why? Don’t you know who I am already?”  
  
Her woman’s mouth twitched in a momentary approximation of a smirk. “I do. Still need to see some ID, just in case.”  
  
Brandon opted for his Lexcorp badge, still in the pocket of his coat, over the (suspended) driver’s license in his wallet. The woman examined it front and back, but she didn’t take out any tool to scan it. She just checked the numbers, nodded, and handed it to him. He tucked it in its safe place and allowed his shoulders to loosen slightly. If this was a hit, or a sting, or something like it, he probably wouldn’t have lasted this long. “Am I good, Miss…?”  
  
“Graves. And you’re good enough.” She proffered a small box, one he hadn’t even noticed until she held it within arm’s reach. “I assume you know what’s in here.”  
  
He took it with clammy hands. “A necklace?”  
  
“An amulet of Dionysus. As of tomorrow, you’ll be a temp worker at the Watchtower. Go to 19400 Malvern, office 15C, by eight. That’s where the general-access teleporter system to the Watchtower is in Gotham. You’ll be expected to actually work up there, and you don’t want to do anything that puts you under suspicion, so you’ll follow the actual contractor policies. You know, when you’re not screwing people.” She paused for laughter; none came. “The full policy paperwork is in the box.”  
  
Brandon opened it and looked at the first page of documents sitting on top, but just a few sentences of “eligible contractee” this and “limitations of interaction” that made his eyes water. He could probably just assume it was like LexCorp: stuffy, secretive, impersonal, and far dirtier than anybody in management wanted to let on. Instead he let Miss Graves drone on while he lifted the papers, and there it was. He knew the necklace—the _amulet_ from all the videos, and now one of them was here, close enough to touch. Was this the one that had laid atop Wonder Woman’s warm, bouncy tits while she fingered herself stupid? Or had it sat between Killer Frost’s more modest breasts, jangling against her sternum while she humped a fire hydrant in broad moonlight? He imagined what it might have witnessed, even things that hadn’t made it on camera, and for an instant it all seemed so real, so close. With this, could he really have the most desirable women in the world? Any woman, any time he wanted?  
  
He glanced at Miss Graves, who sneered at his apartment while she said…something or other. He wasn’t listening. While she was distracted, he looked her up and down. She wasn’t a superhero, but she could have been one with her statuesque physique and curves to die for. Her black stockings reminded him of Black Canary’s fishnets, and the dark miniskirt teased him with visions of what hid beneath. It was a shame she wasn’t one of his targets, or he could…but, actually, wasn’t she? She was a woman, so the amulet affected her, didn’t it? He could try it, and if it failed, he could just say it was a test to make sure he was using it right. He laid the box and paperwork on his sofa and slipped the necklace over his head, laying the chain on his shoulders and letting the amulet itself settle against his stained tee shirt.  
  
Miss Graves stopped mid-sentence, and her eyes bored holes through him. Just her glare caused him actual pain, and he raised his hands to defend himself. And then she looked left, then right, and all around the room. “The hell?” she muttered, only audible because he stood a yard away. “Did he leave in the middle of my speech? Where could he even go?” Her jaw bulged and her teeth ground together, but her glare didn’t settle back on his face. “I swear, does Lex get off sending me to talk to the assholes or something?”  
  
Brandon poked her in the shoulder, right in front of her, where she could have stopped him in an instant if she’d so chosen. The foam shoulder pad under her jacket buckled, and she shifted a fraction of an inch, but she didn’t otherwise respond. He tried something more daring, taking off her hat and letting deep brown hair spill across her shoulders. She brushed it back with her fingers, an unconscious adjustment to keep it under control, and tapped her foot on his worn carpet. Throwing caution to the wind, he splayed his fingers out and raised his hand, giving her one last chance to avoid his grasp. When she only huffed, his hand fell directly onto her breast, squeezing the giant mound through layers of fabrics.  
  
And still she did nothing. Miss Graves ignored him completely. He added another hand to grope her tits from behind, and she checked her watch. He unbuttoned her jacket and shoved his hands under her shirt to fondle her more closely, and she drummed her fingers on her waist. He hiked up her skirt and rubbed her lacy black panties, and she murmured something ironic about a janitor keeping a filthy apartment. Her only reactions were subtle: her nipples growing hard, her face turning red, her panties dampening with moisture. While she ignored him entirely, her body still knew what he did, and slowly he turned her on while she stood blithely unaware.  
  
In a burst of passion he grabbed her head and pulled her to him, shoving his tongue into her mouth. She kissed him back despite her wide open eyes, trading spit with a man she barely knew existed. He worked his finger into her panties, slowly burrowing to her pussy, and he had barely reached her clit when she made a grunt like half-formed words. He pulled back, and she sighed. “Hell with it. If he’s not even going to listen, he can find his own damn way there.” Miss Graves looked at the door, but her hips nudged Brandon’s hand and drew them lower. He let her grind on him for a moment longer, then pulled his hand back and stepped away. As soon as he broke physical contact, Miss Graves grabbed her hat and stormed out his door without bothering to fix her untucked shirt, unbuttoned jacket, or raised skirt.  
  
Brandon looked at his own hands. This was real? This was real! He’d actually felt up one of Lex Luthor’s personal assistants in his apartment, and she hadn’t so much as winced. She had acted like he wasn’t there, even when he was halfway to finger-fucking her and her tongue had his pinned to the bottom of his mouth. This couldn’t be a trick. It was too thorough. Why would Lex Luthor, of all people, go to such an elaborate ruse to fool some custodian into embarrassing himself in front of the Justice League? It made no sense. It had to be true.  
  
A genius billionaire had contacted a random grunt in another city and given him magic powers so he could knock up as many superheroes as possible. This was somehow the most logical explanation, and yes, Brandon understood exactly how insane it sounded. But what was the saying? “When you eliminate the impossible, what’s left must be true, however improbable.” Brandon was pretty sure Spock had said that.  
  
Tomorrow he would be living a life of fantasy, sneaking around the Watchtower and banging any woman he wanted. But…but why wait? This was Gotham! His city had more costumed heroes and villains per capita than pretty much anywhere in the world! Especially in his low-rent, low-maintenance part of town, there was about a fifty-fifty chance he could pop into any police precinct and find at least one D-list mask-wearer sitting in a holding cell or waiting for the cops to process their latest catch. And if he remembered correctly, the precinct a few bus stops away was actually being used as a local foothold for the investigation into the original amulet incident. Which meant the Justice League had been popping in and out of it for the last week, and individual villains had been shipped in (under heavy watch, of course) for interrogations and examinations. Everything was under total lockdown, and nobody, not even Summer Gleeson, had been able to get a glimpse past the front doors. But if he could walk right in, undetected, and find his way to where the League was working…  
  
He left without even grabbing his coat. Gotham could get chilly in the fall, but he would find something to warm him up real quick.  
  


* * *

  
Brandon learned something real quick: men still noticed him. The male bus driver still asked him for his fare, and the grungy men near the back of the bus gave him an eye that told him to stay far near the front. It was a shame, too; a cute young woman nearly sat in his lap, completely oblivious to his presence, and he only slid to an adjacent seat because he didn’t want any strange looks from people who could see him. It was a nice wake-up call before he waltzed into the police station heedless of his limitations.  
  
When he did make his way into the 71st Precinct station, practicing his excuses all the while, he at least only had to deal with a woman at the front desk—which was to say he didn’t have to deal with her, and he strolled past her without so much as a passing nod. By meticulously avoiding any male officers, a skill he had honed during long shifts at work dodging managers and co-workers who needed favors, he made his way to the back of the building. The place he wanted wasn’t hard to find; the Justice League had their logo on signs blocking off a hallway, either the work of a fan in the department or a heavy-handed act of branding. He stepped over the rope and hid around the corner, staying out of any officer’s field of vision by virtue of his new amulet. From there he milled about until he found an interrogation room with the lights on.  
  
His heart soared and his stomach fell. He hadn’t let himself hope until this point. While he knew the station was being used by the Justice League, he could only cross his fingers and pray they were using it _right this moment_. But there it was, a place with nobody close enough to hear and the adjacent observation room dark. This was it. Behind this door sat his goal, his dream, and his greatest fear. He slapped his face to wake up and grabbed the handle, twisting it and bursting inside before he could second- (or seventh-) guess his actions.  
  
Inside he found two women, neither of whom acknowledged his presence. As he turned to close the door he found a third woman tucked in the corner, the undeniable cape and scowl of the Batwoman herself. He froze, as statue-still as she, waiting to give her the explanation he had practiced for the entire trip. She raised her hands and he gave a brave, manly cower until she tugged off her glove, then the next. He blinked, rose, and actually laughed in her face before he realized what he was doing. It was working! In fact, it was working _better_ than it had in his apartment! Was it because he’d worn it longer, or because she had already been subject to the amulet before? It didn’t matter. He just shut the door and watched the women strip as he pulled off his own clothes.  
  
By the time he was naked, Batwoman was down to her cape, mask, boots, belt, and underwear, and her main struggle was getting her sports bra off without disturbing her mask (he understood the struggle—if he planned to wear the amulet much longer, he saw the wisdom in switching to button-down shirts). While he longed to get two handfuls of the Caped Crusader’s plump tits, he turned his attention to the more animated women around a table. He knew Batgirl immediately, both when she stood, arms crossed, in her purple suit and after she wore nothing more than her cape, her mask, and a pair of bright yellow boots. Her trademark red hair gave her away, as did the slender ass and perky titties he had watched for hours on his computer screen. The third woman escaped his memory until she spoke with the grating Brooklyn drawl of Harley Quinn, a voice he recognized even on a random slim woman with blond pigtails. With her wrists handcuffed to the table she couldn’t disrobe as effectively as her interrogators, but with some impressive gymnastics she did get her orange prison shirt and bra bunched around her hands and her pants and panties off her ankles. While the representatives from the Bat-family could finger themselves with ease, Harley had to make do grinding her hips against her cold metal chair.  
  
Batgirl sighed, a shuddering moan indicative of arousal as much as exasperation. “Do you even remember where you got it?”  
  
“Hmm…hm, hm, hmmmmmm…” Harley made a show of thinking while she bent forward to get a better angle. “Maybe Sal’s, you know, on Beech? Mistah J and I hit it up a couple of times. Nice earrings.”  
  
“Stop playing games, Quinzel. Just tell us about the amulets and we’ll see if we can get you transferred back to Arkham. You like Arkham, right? More than Blackgate.” Batgirl leaned over the table, wiggling her tight rump back and forth under her cape with her smallish tits shaking as she pumped her own hole. “We just need a lead.”  
  
“I don’t know nothin’! And even if I did, I wouldn’t say it to the Dork Knight and her squire. So _nyeh_!” She stuck out her tongue, and a moment later her mouth hung open and her eyes rolled back, completing the look.  
  
“Cum… _c-cum!_ —come on, Quinzel,” gasped the barely-legal sidekick. “Give us a name, anything.”  
  
Harley opened her mouth to retort, but something got in her way. Specifically, Brandon sat on the table in front of her and jammed his dick into her mouth, cutting off her smart-aleck retort and giving him a few blessed moments without her voice. He knew it wasn’t part of Luthor’s orders—Harley was the opposite of a superhero, and nobody ever got pregnant via their mouth—but he felt like a little warmup before he got to work. She tilted her head to look at Batgirl behind him, treating him no differently from a wall blocking her line of sight. As he grabbed her pigtails and forced her face up and down, she even closed her lips and moved her tongue, sucking him off like it was her intention. Occasionally she mumbled in response to one of Batgirl’s repeated questions, but for the most part she humped her chair and blew Brandon until her spit dripped down his cock and pooled on the table in front of her. Only after he’d come to the brink of orgasm did he let her go, and she gasped aloud and smiled at Batwoman. “Little girl’s not gettin’ it done, Bats. Sure you don’t want to take a crack at me? I promise I won’t bite. Hard.”  
  
Batwoman didn’t move, except for the fingers sliding in and out of her spread pussy. Her gravely voice stayed level in spite of the red showing on the visible parts of her face. “Answer the questions.”  
  
“Nevah! My lips are sealed!” Harley shook her head, totally ignorant of Brandon pulling her to her feet. She leaned over the table now, just like Batgirl, except her hands were chained far away from her hips. Brandon took it upon himself to help her, and he lined himself up behind her and aimed his cock at her lips. “Threaten me all you want, but I’ll never say a single woid. _Oh my God, fuck, shit, yes!_ ” She came like a rocket just from the first penetration, her greedy walls shuddering and milking him for everything he had. Her feet arched and her torso slumped, presenting her bare ass to him and bouncing like he had her on a rodeo bull. “Fuck me, baby, yes! And fuck you, Bats! You can call me in here every single night, and you’ll still nevah hear a single peep outta my _FUCK! I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cuuuuumm!_ ” Her body shook from her tiptoes to her pigtails, a massive orgasm he heard as much as he saw and felt. After fooling around with Miss Graves and getting a forced blowjob from a handcuffed supervillain, Brandon couldn’t hold back any longer. He blew his first load not into any of the heroes he should have been targeting, but into Harley Quinn, possibly impregnating the girlfriend of the most dangerous man on earth.  
  
The magnitude of what he had done struck him at once, and he pulled out and backed against the wall. White cream seeped from Harley’s lips, and rather than panic or wipe it, she pulled her chair back under her with her nimble legs and got right back to grinding, rubbing his cum all over her crotch. He laughed. He had to! He’d actually done it! He’d fucked Harley Quinn herself, in front of Batwoman, and the only thing the veteran superhero had done was mumble something about her own climax before her hand picked up speed. Watching one woman rub herself in the corner while another accidentally forced his sperm into her body brought his erection back with gusto, and he leered at the third woman in the room, who by his count was biting her lip to hold back the screams from her second peak.  
  
He circled the room and pushed Batgirl’s cape to the side, revealing her entire lovely back to him. His fingers traced lines down her spine to her ass, which he treated to a single eardrum-splitting smack. Batgirl jumped and yelped, and then she went right back to her interrogation. “The silent treatment won’t work, Quinzel. I can be here as long as you can.”  
  
“Yeah, I bet.” Harley sneered at the young redhead. “A girl like you doesn’t have much of a nightlife, does she?”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“Batgirl,” Batwoman moaned, “don’t let her fluster you.”  
  
“I’m not flustered,” she replied, though her chest grew red as Brandon groped her boobs from behind. “Besides, I’m not the one spending my nights in cuffs with a bunch of other women.”  
  
Harley laughed, a breathy _ha-ha-ha_ very much like panting. “Nah, you’d rather spend it in spandex tossing around poor, defenseless girls.”   
  
Brandon slapped his dick against Batgirl’s pussy, triggering another pleasure filled shudder. As he prepared to rape her dripping cunt, he waved his cock at her boss, the stoic Batwoman jilling off in the corner. “What’s wrong? I thought you were the world’s greatest detective, and you don’t even notice me right in front of you? I’m about to fuck a baby into your partner here, and you won’t even lift a finger, will you?  
  
Batwoman stood upright and looked at him, and time froze. Her livid stare turned his blood to ice, too cold to shiver. Batgirl and Harley sniped at each other only a few feet away but he didn’t hear a word of it. There was no interrogation room, only darkness and two eyes scanning his very soul. He could feel his life about to end, yet he couldn’t even see the fist heading for him.   
  
And then she fell back against the wall and returned to her oblivious masturbation. Brandon stood in disbelief until his heart pumped again, releasing all his air in a single breath. That had happened, right? For just an instant Batwoman had defied the amulet. He considered what would have happened if she hadn’t fallen back under its influence and he nearly vomited in the corner. Clearly he would have to leave her alone for a little while. She would succumb eventually, or else Luthor would have warned him. Probably.  
  
Luckily, the cum-stained thighs of Harley Quinn and the perky ass of her teenaged rival helped him recover his erection in mere moments. He humped Batgirl’s backside, preparing to take her while Harley hunched over and moaned through her latest insult. ”Look, Red, I’m just sayin’, Maybe if you got some dick once in a— _fucking yes!_ —while you wouldn’t be so excited about spendin’ time with me.”  
  
“I do not need dick! _Oh, God, give me that dick._ ” Batgirl’s eyes rolled as Brandon sunk into her, hammering her hips with his hands around her tiny waist. “I need answers. Just t-tell me where you g-got the amulets, and I won’t have to _c-cum!_ Back.”  
  
“Look, I’m just as confused as you are! One minute I’m havin’ a party with the girls, and it gets a little wild, and then you and your squad show up and I’m in a cell wearing nothin’ but a towel, and there’s all these videos of me doin’ stuff on the street? Mmm, yes, right there. I’m a good, civil girl! I’d nevah do things like that with people watching! Oh, fuck! Yeah, baby, watch me cum again!” Harley pounded the chair so hard she knocked it over, and she crouched over it from the side to grind out the last of her orgasm. “Look, you were there just like I was. Why aren’t you askin’ yourself questions?”  
  
Batgirl fell to her elbows, propping herself up with one hand while the other pinched her own nipple. “Because I’m in the same boat you are. We’re both—fuck, fuck, yessss—the victims here, Harleen. Something happened to both of us. We—mmmmm—we need to figure it out together, before anything else happens.” She rolled her hips at Brandon, fucking him almost as much as he fucked her. Her head swung to the side and her brow cinched, trying to keep a straight face and failing badly. “I doubt either of us want anybody taking advantage of us.”  
  
“Cumming again.” Batwoman muttered.  
  
“Exactly. Whoever did that to us, they might come again. When—oh, fuck—when it happens, we need to protect ourselves. We don’t—oh, yes, yes, yes! I don’t have any—fuck! I—God, yes—I don’t have any protection! I’m not on protection! Fuck my unprotected— _mmm, aaaaaaah!_ ” Her back arched, thrusting her chest forward and bending her hips just right to rub Brandon’s cock. Her accidental warning set him off, and he blew his second load of the night directly into Batgirl’s fertile womb. He could almost feel her suck his sperm deeper as he came, giving it the best chance to fertilize the barely-legal sidekick with his very first superhero baby. She shook her head and crossed her arms, still unaware of the man plugging her pussy full of spunk. “This is hitting heroes and villains alike. We need to work together.”  
  
“You need to suck a lemon.” Harley turned up her nose, which happened to be the same as throwing her head back. “I told you, I’m out of answers too.”  
  
Batgirl sighed, and when Brandon pulled out she flopped back in her chair, though she did perch her feet on the table and slide her finger back into her creamy cunt. “It’s going to be another long night, isn’t it?”  
  
“You can handle it,” Batwoman said, and Brandon remembered he still had another hero to knock up tonight. “I have to leave.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, patrol. Just keep your clothes on.” Batgirl looked up from her masturbation, and even the amulet couldn’t keep her from withering under her mentor’s icy glare. “Just a joke.”  
  
“Funny.” Batwoman opened the door and left the interrogation room. Brandon considered the remaining girls, wondering how long he could seed and reseed them until he couldn’t stay awake any longer, but he wasn’t about to coop himself up in a single tiny room. He had an ocean of women to conquer now! He snatched his clothes from the ground and tugged them on as he chased the nearly-naked Batwoman down the hall. Wherever she was going, he wanted to be there.  
  


* * *

  
Brandon, it turned out, was not Batwoman. While she had a body honed by years of crime-fighting and endless training, he was just a guy who worked on his feet all day. Keeping pace with her as she raced along rooftops was not easy. His saving grace was the amulet. Batwoman leapt from building to building, but stopped every few steps to rub her nearly-naked body. From street level it only looked like she was brooding, at least to the men who noticed her, but Brandon knew the truth. By running full-tilt he barely managed to catch up with her time and again, getting his wind back for a second or two before she took off. They crossed four blocks this way as she raced without an opponent and he without a destination, tearing through and over Gotham while men gawked and women ignored them.  
  
He also learned something important: when women ignored him, that also meant female drivers. He was extra-careful crossing the street after the first time.  
  
Finally she dropped into an alleyway, and Brandon just saw her cape as it slipped into a building and a window slid shut behind her. After an intense fit of wheezing he dragged a trash can over to a fire escape and climbed his way up to the seventh floor, a welcome cool-down for his burning lungs. When he reached the window he pried it open and climbed inside, finding himself in a normal apartment, fairly mundane except for the diplomas on the wall and the nearly-naked women making out on the couch.  
  
“Mmm, wait. Wait.” The woman on the bottom pushed Batwoman off of her, holding her just a few inches away. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”  
  
Batwoman cupped the other woman’s face with her bare hand, running a thumb over her cheekbone. “Are your instincts telling you something, _Officer_ Montoya?”  
  
A smile broke out over Brandon’s face. He knew Renee Montoya, one of the policewomen who had helped arrest the nude Legion of Doom. She had become something of a sensation as one of the rare females on the force during the night the heroes stripped in public, and he recalled some online chatter wishing she had joined them. And now he had her right in front of him, wearing nothing but a tee shirt and panties, getting felt up by Batwoman as part of an apparent lesbian tryst? His clothes hit her carpet before she even finished speaking. “Don’t get me wrong, I love having you over. But taking off your suit outside and sneaking into my apartment naked is a little much.”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Batwoman replied, and once she started suckling Montoya’s neck the officer was too busy to ask more questions. The amulet took hold of her—or she just wanted to get closer—and she snuck off her clothes while Batwoman’s groping grew more and more daring. Montoya laughed as she rubbed her partner’s back, humming and pushing her chest gently upward, and Batwoman nuzzled her cheek until she turned for a kiss.   
  
Brandon’s heart ached; he had never imagined Gotham’s dark savior could be so utterly, unabashedly cute. He could have sat and watched for hours, and they would have let him, if the amulet’s demand for masturbation could be satisfied by normal sex. But he had a duty to perform. He sat on the couch behind them, pushed their writhing legs out of the way to make room, and rubbed his cock along Batwoman’s moist lips.  
  
Batwoman backed into him, but only to slide down Montoya’s body to lap at her nipples with slow, wet feathering. As he pushed into the oblivious superhero’s pussy, he nudged her cape out of the way so he could watch the girl-on-girl action continue. The new position also freed the Dark Knight’s chest, and he enthusiastically kneaded one of the top five racks in the Justice League. He had always thought it a shame that Batwoman and her circle tended to wear so much more clothing than the other women, and his opinion only intensified when he had seen just how much flesh she hid behind the logo on her chest. He smacked her fat tits so hard they bounced long after he let them go to grab her ass and pound her harder, rutting her with as much force as his hips could manage.  
  
Montoya stretched out on the couch and laid a hand on Batwoman’s head, caressing her through the mask. She never looked at Brandon, not even when he spanked her girlfriend right in front of her. She focused entirely on the romantic attentions the amulet allowed her to notice, not the naked man she’d never met humping on her couch. Brandon stared directly at her, using the arousal in her face as fuel for his aching thighs. His balls tightened for the third time that night, and he grabbed Batwoman’s shoulders and pulled himself into her as deep as he could get. He knew she likely had some level of defense against him, given her renowned skill at planning for every occasion, but for now he satisfied himself with pumping his hometown’s greatest hero full of sticky white sperm.  
  
A hollowness struck as he pulled out, and he thought he knew the source. Fucking Harley and Batgirl had given him such a rush, and fucking Batwoman hadn’t, specifically because he thought she was on protection. Nervousness no longer plagued him. He _wanted_ to knock up the entire Justice League, to fill every one of those fertile bellies with children they could never trace to him. After a few rounds of breeding sex, he wanted more, and Batwoman wasn’t cutting it. He would have to find a way to get rid of her safeguards. In the meantime, he had another idea. He stood and tugged on the women until they moved, still thinking they acted under their own volition. When he had Batwoman sitting on the sofa and Montoya in her lap, he pulled the officer’s naked ass to Batwoman’s knees. While looking the Dark Knight right in the eyes, he crouched behind Montoya and slid his cock inside her.  
  
Batwoman didn’t look back at him. She closed her eyes and pecked her girlfriend’s lips, a delicate side she never showed when throwing criminals into dumpsters. Her hands held Montoya’s sides, massaging her lower back muscles and accidentally holding her in place so Brandon didn’t jar her loose. He squeezed Montoya’s breasts until skin poked through his fingers, using them as handholds. Her panting grew in waves, the result of stimulation far beyond what simple kissing and fondling could provide. Despite his exhaustion he forced himself to continue, holding Montoya’s soft, dark body tight against his chest. His balls ached and his legs throbbed, but he had started this and he intended to finish it. What finally pushed him over the edge was picturing the inevitable conversation when the lesbian police officer told her girlfriend she was pregnant with no idea who the father was, a conversation he intended to cause. With a gasp more like a whimper he shot the last of his cum into her, envisioning his seed taking hold inside her womb, and the moment his orgasm ended he fell back to the floor with a dull thump.  
  
The women continued without him, though Montoya kept trying to move from simple making out to heavy petting. Dollops of white oozed between their thighs, and Brandon crossed his fingers. Two superheroines down, plus one ally and one supervillain, and he hadn’t even started his first day.  
  
His first day! He searched the room for a clock. 2:14 in the morning. Didn’t he have to be at work by eight? He dressed as he stumbled toward the window, then thought better of the climb down and went to the front door instead. His body screamed at him for the late hour, the race through Gotham, and of course for the vigor it took to fuck four women in one night. If he was lucky, he might be able to get three or four hours of sleep before he started his new job. Hopefully the allure of being surrounded by the planet’s hottest, most unattainable women would give him the energy he needed to power through the day. Though, even if they didn’t, he planned to have many, many more chances.


End file.
